The Ending
by skrewtkeeper
Summary: The response to a life-altering event reveals a lot about a person. This is the story of how another perceives their continuing love. MMAD.
1. The Ending

_**A/N:** Here is my puny author's note, but I need to explain some things before you race into the story-- this is_ almost_ like "This Man Was Mad", but it lacks certain elements and has others instead. I was thinking of turning this into a future chapter, but I decided that would not work. This idea came out of nowhere, it seems, and though I do have a basic plot for it, I'd like you readers to decide if this should continue. I mean, I could leave it right here-- it ends how I'd like it to, but I want to know how you readers like it... ALSO, I have Gladys Ferrin in here, also featured in "The Blood of Azkaban". Now, she is based off of me with some odd characteristics thrown in there that remind me of my best friend. I don't know who she is, really, but she reminds me most of myself, so there you go. You're about to read a story with ME in it. Scream and run. :D_

**The Ending**

"Gladys! I'm Gladys! You _have_ to let me in there!"

It was apparent that the Healer watching the room did not think so kindly of my tone of voice, for she spat in reply, "I'm under strict orders that no one may enter! If you have any complaints, kindly take them up with _her_ at the end of visiting hours."

"Oh, for heaven's sake; Gladys is one of her _dearest_ friends." A wild-eyed Poppy Pomfrey rushed to my aid, sensing my desperation. "She'll let the _both_ of us in, I promise you."

The hooked-nose nurse glared dirtily at the both of us before stepping aside and abandoning her post. Poppy regained control before I could move and calmly pushed the door open while I gathered the essential nerve required; the atmosphere required a more somber eye.

The room was one of the most spacious, which was hardly surprising; fame granted many higher 'glories'. It was empty apart from the bed in the center of the room. Sunlight softly drifted in, highlighting what once were her ebony tresses. She sat beside the bed, watching the old man sleep with almost a maternal eye, ready to strike upon any intruders like the lioness she certainly was, but as she looked up at us, a gleam of recognition entered her gaze and she gestured us forth with her eyes. We proceeded cautiously nonetheless; how much intrusion is too much intrusion?

"Any change?" Poppy bravely asked, but perhaps it was out of simple concern; she had known Minerva for longer than me.

"No," she replied shortly, leaving no room for discussion. I watched her head turn toward the immobile form on the bed to stare at the one who was silent. He slept, and the tenderness in her gaze caused me to ache for what would no longer be hers upon the morrow. He would wake up to give his goodbyes, and fall into the never-ending sleep, a sleep that surpasses all time and understanding of anything. He would dream and dream on again, never waking, and never troubling over trivial matters such as life or death.

His snowy-white hair was ablaze with the rays of the sun, and it seemed surreal that anything troubling could occur at the time of such sunshine; the students were on summer holiday from Hogwarts, and I remained with two women, watching an old man die. But this was no ordinary man. Had it been, perhaps I would not be here. Perhaps I would find witnessing an intrusion, and what a blessed intrusion it would have been. I would not witness another soul crushed by grief, and I would not witness the time of passing, as if one needed any confirmation for the time of death of anything-- I would see no script with a name, yet this man would leave a lasting impression on me, simply because I didn't know his name. I could remember faces well- names were an entirely different matter, and I would remember him not because he was great, but because his final moments impacted me.

Such was not the case here. This man was breathing his last, not because of himself today, but because of her, the old woman sitting on the edge of her chair, peering at him as though to catch his every last breath with her eyes, as if desperately attempting to record the finality of it all. These were the moments she would turn to when she was at her weakest, I knew, and this was why I was here. If I could place strength in her heart, allowing her to realize that I was aware of how she felt, the pain this witness would cause me would be completely worth it. I would suffer the pain of anything for the benefit or progression of her. . . .

He inhaled sharply, and her head swiveled like a top, facing him and breathing in his last expression. He slowly opened his eyes and softly smiled at her with his eyes partway open. My heart clenched in response; after all these years, their love still had this affect of melting my own barriers into soft butter.

"Minerva," he all but whispered, bringing her hand to his lips with his dead shrivel of a hand and kissing it. I observed her response in silent admiration. She herself let her guard down by shutting her eyes in pleasure, and as she opened them, she began to speak.

"Albus, I've brought you friends," she whispered back, hesitant, it seemed, to break the atmosphere. She used her other hand and beckoned his spectacles to her before she tenderly placed them upon the bridge of his nose. It seemed he could see immediately, or perhaps could before she had placed them on his face-- his eyes never left mine through the entire transaction.

"You've brought Poppy," he nodded sideways to her while he still stared at me, "and _Gladys_."

Minerva nodded, noting his stare but taking no exceptional notice to it. "Yes, I did."

"Poppy, have you…?"

"I've got the documents all here, sir," was her quick reply. I tried to avoid shuddering as I glanced to Poppy because Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have settled on me, as though I had some compelling feature that was so hard to ignore. I was unnerved; I did not have eels growing out of my ears. To my right, I watched Poppy hand a file folder to Minerva, and my breath hitched as I realized the contents: his will and unsigned death certificate. Poppy was here to sign it.

I chanced a glance back at Dumbledore, but his eyes were busy with something else and I relaxed at once. As if sensing my relief, the old man spoke.

"Miss Ferrin, you are not out of hot water yet," he said quietly, smiling a little as he filtered through the file folder Minerva had handed him; it appeared to have more within it at second glance. "I have a charge for you--"

"--whatever it is," I began anxiously, "I promise I will perform to the best of my ability."

He looked at me, and I could for once see the pain in his eyes as he said, "Thank you. Your confidence in me means more than you shall ever know." He looked to Minerva and then at Poppy as he added in a quieter voice, "Gladys and I have 'unfinished business' to attend to."

Poppy took her cue at once and left the room. Minerva, however, seemed reluctant to leave if her stiffening back indicated anything.

"My dear, we can hardly progress to anything if we are reluctant to begin in the first place." He smiled at her as his words came out quickly; it was almost as if he sensed he had little time remaining, yet he added in spite of this, "I cannot properly leave without saying goodbye. You shall have your turn last, yet last might as well be first."

"I know, Albus, I know…" She complied to his whims, but not before kissing his cheek and walking stalwartly and true towards me.

Her eyes searched mine and I sensed an overwhelming impatience exuding from her very being. "I'll be quick," I whispered and I could see the gratitude gleaming in her emerald eyes before she briefly embraced me and quickly left the both of us alone.

The door shut rudely behind her and I stared at my feet for a moment, embarrassed almost to meet my old Headmaster's gaze when I was fully aware he was staring at me intently. "I want you nearer, Gladys," he said quietly, and I cautiously stepped forward, retaining my dignity with slippery fingers as I took a deep breath and stepped before him. "There is no need for nervousness; what I plan on asking you is not going to require Herculean effort."

I granted him a small smile and I chanced a glance at him. Tears were pouring from his eyes like the leaky water faucets in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but his voice bore no evidence of his distress. The sight made my own eyes water.

"Hush now," he said softly, blowing a simple spell with his breath to wipe away my tears. "I can't have you weeping; you are the one holding me together. If one can withstand the pain of separation, then so must I."

I nodded dumbly, too lost for words as I felt the tears well up again.

"What I ask of you is both simple and difficult--" he paused, patiently awaiting my reaction before continuing, "--therefore it must be treated with great care and sensitivity. I cannot remain in two places at once, which is why I desire you to be the eyes and ears of me to soothe Minerva's surely debilitating grief. I have seen her grieve before and what she tends to do is nothing out of the ordinary for her-- she tends to pile even more work upon herself in order to relieve the pain of facing the real heart of the problem." I nodded quickly, vividly recalling the passing of her father and remembering how long it took her to move on. I winced as I recalled that Dumbledore was there for her at a time when I was not. I could not comfort another when I was so lost in a world of my own. The man who lay before me turned my life around with his kindness and I could never repay him. Taking care of Minerva when she was at her weakest was certainly a small price to pay.

"I will do whatever you ask," I said softly, meeting his gaze. "I just am unsure if I am right for such a tall order… I will not be offended if you ask another. Honestly, I can't imagine that I am the best choice. Minerva has better friends at her disposal. What if you're making a mistake? What if Minerva needs the person I can't be?"

"If I weren't so certain in the matter, I would have asked Poppy," he said in almost a sharp voice and I lowered my head to the floor again in embarrassment. "Minerva cares about you more than she reveals. You are her dearest friend; count on that truth and you shall succeed. All I ask is that you are there. I cannot substitute for my own death. I cannot comfort her when I am gone. She will descend in the bitter depths of hell because of this, because of our separation and the truths she will learn in due time may shatter her if she bears them alone. All I ask is that you remain who you are today, and be sure to never waver in the conviction that I love her, and will forever continue to do so, no matter what happens."

I felt my voice split in two as I looked at him again and replied weakly, "I--I will."

"Thank you," he smiled at me and I weakly returned it. "I sense that you still feel either unworthy or inadequate of this cause I have placed upon you. Or perhaps simply dumbfounded I would press you to action when you wouldn't have otherwise. Please do not think of it in this way. There is no other Minerva has spoken of more fondly apart from you, and I feel that you were and shall remain the best choice. You also must know by now, and I am dreadfully sorry you must hear this at a time so overdue, but I greatly feel that you were perhaps the daughter I never had. I love you, Gladys."

I looked at him, and the tears spilled from my eyes. I kneeled on the floor at his bedside and wept as he stroked my hair; all I had desired in my life was approval, and I had had it all along from the man who had always been in front of me. He loved me, and the fact was so wonderfully magnificent and dreadfully painful to contemplate, for I had doubted him for so long. My wallowing in self-pity ended abruptly, however, as the door opened and the two witches walked side-by-side to Dumbledore's bed as though with an air of purpose.

"I will keep my bargain," he nodded solicitously to Minerva before she could say anything and said softly, "Poppy, if you would?" Poppy stepped forth as I backed away with Minerva out the door, wondering what significance Poppy had in all of this. If I were to hold Minerva up when she was down, what was Poppy to do? Clean up the mess I left behind?

As we stepped out in the hall, it appeared deceptively tranquil, but I was keenly aware that Minerva was restless at the injustice she suffered by going last. It was not all in speaking to him last that drove her up the wall, but feeling that time was running out was what irked her.

I considered within myself to speak to her as I quietly watched Healers bustling by, up and about and swamped with the amount of work they had on their hands, but no words came to me. It seemed a silence between friends, or so I flattered myself. There had to be something if I did not feel the awkwardness and she didn't snuff it out at the first chance she received. I almost chanced a glance at her, but I refrained; it seemed almost an infraction upon her privacy, looking at her while she suffered. It seemed the most obvious that the lioness was caged, and any jab to her would prove deadly if not frosty, but this was Minerva, one of the dearest friends I had ever received. I gave her the privacy she deserved willingly; after all, it was better to say nothing than to say something unintelligent, right?

The doors opened a second later and Poppy, I was interested to see, did not bear any marks of emotional battle. She seemed more somber, of course, as she opened the door and nodded to Minerva, who seemed to staunch with difficulty, the reflex to simply dash in the room without any reservations. Poppy seemed tranquil as ever, unaffected by any turn of events or with whatever Dumbledore had meant to entrust her, but perhaps this detachment had come from her years as a school nurse.

I did not speak to her either. There seemed to be something I was missing in this silence though, as if she had something on her mind that needed conversation to relieve. I could bear it no longer and lightly asked, "He entrusted you something?"

"Yes," she said softly, "but I am not permitted to share it."

I looked away and at my shoes again-- they were _quite_ interesting after all. "It means nothing, dear," she remarked confidently, so strong and sure in her conviction that he cared about me. I quietly yearned for that strength everyone seemed to believe I had unquestionably within me. "My duty seems heartless almost, for any old _scullery_ maid could do it, but he was quite insistent that _I_ do it. I will only do it because he has asked-- there is no point in crying over spilled potion, especially if I have already agreed that I would use it."

I nodded to her, but said no more. At that moment, the doors opened again, inviting us entry and I followed Poppy in, feeling the pressing heaviness of intrusion with far more weight, as I observed what I had never observed before. . . .

They stared at one another, and I found I could not pull my gaze away. They were so beautiful; chosen gods, it seemed, to show the rest of us how to love. Dumbledore acknowledged our return with a small nod before he said simply, "The papers you desire my love--" he gestured to the corner in the room, "--are on that writing desk. I want you to have them."

"Thank you, Albus," she exclaimed in gratitude it seemed, but she did not get up to retrieve them. Feeling as though I were a part of a scene in which I did not belong, he suddenly spoke.

"Gladys, I was just speaking of you."

His eyes never left hers and they seemed to have formed a distinct line of communication that Poppy and I could not hear. This staring was better than the loving nonsense lovers whispered in one another's ears, yet the awkwardness left a weary tang in the air. To rid myself of it, my line of sight descended again to my shoes and I kept them fixed there as I said, "You were?"

"Oh yes, indeed," he exclaimed, a shadow of his normally exuberant self returned in the blink of an eye, but as I glanced up at him, it was gone and he remained weak and frail in his bed, dying because of the blackened hand stroking Minerva's cheek with such tenderness that I looked away again. They seemed to have dared each other to stare until the other blinked, or perhaps until he died. Perhaps they were both afraid to have the parting glance ruined upon a lazy eye. Whatever the cause, I remained silent; pleading within myself that he would continue and spare me further discomfort.

"I believe you are all lucky… it's not everyday one is given the opportunity to watch their employer die," he remarked amicably as though speaking of his beloved candies.

A heard a belligerent sniff behind me as Poppy reprimanded sharply, "Don't speak of yourself in that way." Luckily, Minerva seemed to have caught the real intent at his words; she was smiling at him and her joy hurt almost as much as her desperation of over a half-hour before.

"My dear Poppy," he began gently, surprising us all with what came out next, "surely you can recognize an old man's feeble attempt to lighten the atmosphere and then have the grace to _pretend_ to appreciate the joke? I am heart-broken."

The comment wasn't particularly funny, but the four of us all laughed. When we could properly breathe again, the old man said, "Leaving with a smile and the ones I love the most around me… How glorious, how quaint…"

He broke the line of concentration and turned to Poppy first, extending his arm and beckoning to her. He got a hold of her arm and gently pulled her forward so he could whisper in her ear. I hung onto the rasp of his voice and only caught, "--side of bargain. We can't have--" before his voice was completely lost to me. As Poppy was dismissed, I was intrigued to find a smile on her face even as her eyes shone with withheld tears.

Minerva was second. I didn't even bother trying to listen; he said so much and at such a great speed, that I found it nearly impossible to believe he was dying.

I was last. He looked at me and I felt as though I were bleeding on the inside, as though he was very well aware of what he had asked of me. As if all of the vain thoughts I had considered on acting upon, as if every desire of my heart was woven in that blood and he could list every atom holding it together from memory. His cerulean eyes blazed at me in the way that only his eyes can, but as I approached him, the heat of the evaluating gaze disappeared and the normal twinkling manner returned. Cold relief drowned me as I stepped nearer and I felt the breath of his numbered words on my ear as he spoke. "Please remember," he whispered, "your worth to me. Please remember that I love you. Please remember that I am very well aware of the pain this may cause you. Don't be afraid. Her bark is worse than her bite, I promise you, but in loving another, any pain is worth the exquisite happiness that accompanies a relationship. I trust your judgment. I trust that you will love her. I trust that you will do the right thing. You promised your best-- make certain you _give _me your best. I love you. Do not forget…"

I stepped away, wiping my eyes and watched Poppy do the same. The only one who had not shed a tear at all was Minerva. I looked to her then, but her emerald eyes were not glittering with tears, but with an emotion I could not place.

"The adventure awaits…"

They were his final words. Minerva let go of his cold, dead hand as Poppy signed the certificate in the air. I silently watched out of the corner of my eye, the progression of Minerva pulling the sheets up to his chin. She arranged his limbs in a dignified manner and stood to wander to the writing desk, but he stopped her. She ran her fingers through his beard and hair, touching his face and nose, closing his eyes with her quivering fingertips, and kissing his cheek before she wandered away.

Some would say that a death could bring about a beginning, a rebirth to those affected and reincarnate them into people stronger than before, but as I glimpsed the first, fresh tears falling down Minerva's face as she wept ever so silently, I came to regard those who said things as unworthy rubbish beneath the soles of my feet; they knew nothing. To me, this was no beginning. This was the ending.


	2. Failure to Launch

_Six Months Later_

I had failed him. The both of them. I only checked up on her once shortly after his death, and she seemed to be functioning.

I wished I could kick myself.

The stairs were beautiful stairs, and I stepped on only three of them before I reached the magnificent oak doors that sealed the world inside from the world outside. I opened it cautiously and was swept away by nostalgia; the fire burned the same way in the torches nearest to me; the old castle seemed happy to see me, as if it sat with more dignity as I approached its inner workings. "Don't worry," I whispered, "I am here to help her…"

Even the _scent_ was clothed in memory; tonight was surely pumpkin pie, and I was poignantly aware of the students in class now, smelling nothing but dessert (more commonly a disaster in the Transfiguration classroom, which was rumored to be situated above the kitchens on Dumbledore's orders) and salivating as a professor droned on. It was 4:45. Dinner was at 5:30. Classes were over at 5:00. Pure torture. I smiled at a vivid memory of such distress.

But I was not here for that. I was here for her.

I mounted the staircase, feeling trepidation overwhelm me before I could proceed. I had failed her. It was a mantra, repeating itself in my head as if I didn't know it myself.

_You failed her, Gladys. You failed her, Gladys. You failed her, Gladys_.

But I wouldn't fail her anymore, I reasoned with myself as I continued to walk to her classroom.

_The damage is done. The damage is done._

"Oh, shut up," I whispered, causing a portrait of a woman sipping a butterbeer near me to remark with an indignant air, "_Well!_"

My mind tormented me until I reached her class, and it left me in silence, standing there. I felt naked, like I was back in school again. Out of class during instructional hours. I felt dirty. I felt like I had done something wrong. I felt like a First Year again.

I clucked like a chicken and headed to the nearest girl's bathroom, trying to crush my indecision, my fear, my misguided intent to bring her back to where she had been before. I barricaded myself in a stall and prayed for the end.

The bell rang just as I finished and I jumped in surprise. Breathing heavily, I nearly abandoned my sanctuary until the entrance of three girls stopped the flow of my fingers to the lock on my stall door.

"Ugh! Can you _believe_ how much the bat assigned today?"

"Shelly, you brought it on yourself; you shouldn't talk while the teacher's talking."

"But seriously-- three scrolls, Jenna? _Three scrolls_?! The old bat must not have a life."

"Maybe she _likes_ to correct poorly-written essays," Jenna countered reasonably.

"Oh, shut up Jenna. You are such a priss. She can't hear through walls; you know that. Don't tell me that this essay doesn't bother you. It does. Hey Shelly, I think she just assigns a lot of work because she _doesn't_ have a life, if you know what I mean."

"Ugh! You're worse than me, Bridget!" Shelly laughed.

"Well, it's true, don't you think? She's lost weight, looks dead-- must be completely undesirable for even the old barman at the Hog's Head…"

"Bridget, you need to buy me some mind floss; I don't think I'll ever get _that_ image out of my mind."

The three girls laughed before the left the bathroom, leaving me seething in my fury. How _dare_ her own students insult her in such a manner! How were they so blind? How could they not see--? Minerva was so unspeakably beautiful, like the goddess she was named after. Next to Albus, with her whole self restored, she was this beautiful persona, uncanny in how she remained so elegant and graceful despite the years that stacked up against her. Her ebony hair was grizzled in grey, but how could it not be after so many years? Her emerald eyes still burned with a fire all their own, crackling with every emotion known to wizardkind. How could the girls not see--?

Perhaps she _had_ changed. My blood ran cold at the thought as I shakily exited the bathroom. I was going to disprove Bridget, Jenna, _and_ Shelly. They weren't right. I knew they weren't. Perhaps they had only seen her at her weakest; perhaps they were First Years, but even First Years wouldn't speak in such brash terms. They were older. They _had_ seen her in the past. I was now certain of that. I was uncertain of the present person Minerva had become. Who was she now? Had she _really_ lost weight as so crudely observed by three of her students?

I paused at her classroom door, wishing I had kept the courage with me. It had left me long ago. I finally knocked three times and shut my eyes tightly in response, as if afraid I would hear her voice again.

No answer.

I tried again, far more loudly, making sure that she heard me, for perhaps my knock was weak, uncertain, and lacking.

No answer.

It was then I confirmed she wasn't in her office at all; how long had I contemplated the girls' observations? It could have been hours. I felt detached from my prior purpose, and I felt my blood turn to sludge once more. I was so cruel. I was so stupid. How had I ever thought that a simple visit would perk her up to remembrance? How could I even face her if I feared her response?

I shook these fears away and focused on approaching her, regardless of the circumstances. I found myself in the corridor to the Head's gargoyle statue before I remembered I needed a password.

I cursed my stupidity.

_You are nothing. You are nothing. You are nothing._

The mantra returned as I attempted to think; what was the most breached subject?

_It's too late. It's too late._

"_Albus_," whispered a voice helpfully. The whisper caused me to turn around before I realized it was in my own mind that I heard it. Yes, Minerva _would_ have the password deal with Albus in some manner or another, but _how_?

_You can't reach her, it's too late. You can't reach her, it's too late._

It would be complex, surely crazy. It would be something no one would consider. That meant that candy was surely off the list. What was so important about Albus anyway?

The ending of him. It brought her to his post. It brought me to his old office. But it would not be an ending for her, at least not in the sense of a new occupation, a new role, a new reason to stay at Hogwarts. It would be a beginning.

It was neither. It was both.

Throwing caution to the wind, I said in her native Gaelic tongue, "Fàinne."

The gargoyle leapt aside and I applauded my own brilliance. A nagging feeling tore through me though; Minerva probably knew I would solve it, which meant that she expected me. Inadequacy claimed me again and I choked on the air surrounding me, suffocating me, until I knocked the door, which was when I held my breath.

"Come in." Her voice seemed perplexed, unsure. She sensed a presence, but did not know who it was. As I opened the door, the smell was so strong my eyes watered. The stench of lemon was overpowering and I coughed before I heard a soft, "Sorry." It vanished as quickly as it had come; the scent no longer nauseated me and I could see her at last.

She _had_ lost weight. I winced as I looked at her more closely.

"Well?" she snapped. "Who sent you here?"

"I--I--" She didn't recognize me. Unsurprising, really. I had changed my appearance for her own sake.

"I do not have time to listen to you babble."

"How are you?" I asked uncertainly. She glared fiercely, and I could have sworn neither of us breathed.

"I don't believe that merits _any_ of your concern. You are in _my_ office and I'd like to know at once who has sent you here. The gates won't open to those untrustworthy; how did you get in this castle?"

I stalled. "I know-- I know a professor here."

"_Who_ sent you?" she snarled.

Anger aided me at last. "I sent myself. You needn't unleash your temper on anyone apart from me. I came of my own accord to see _you_, Headmistress--"

"I don't want to see you," she spat rudely.

I was miffed. "Well, I'll leave then. I only meant to say that there hasn't been a day that we've been apart that I haven't thought of you. I avoided approaching you because I knew _this_ would be the response--"

"Shut the door," she interrupted tiredly.

I obeyed mechanically and returned to her desk. I sat facing her and she stared me in the eye for a full minute before she sighed.

"Why did you come?" Her voice was exhausted now, as if I had beaten her.

"I came to see you; I _needed_ to see you."

She smiled without humor. "You came to see if you could perform some heroic act and save me from the darkness, am I correct?" I nodded and she laughed bitterly. "You are far too late for that, Gladys."

"But, you've coped, haven't you? I mean, you still _live_, don't you?"

She shot another twisted grin at me. "Do you call _this_ living? You are aware of my weaknesses; I couldn't even clean up quickly enough before you entered."

I nodded quickly, anxious to get to the point. "All of us grieve when someone close to us dies, Minerva. Surely you've recognized that by now--"

She snorted. "You don't understand at all. I am a prisoner to this-- this-- _memory_. I eat because if I don't, I'll waste away. I sleep when I can't stay awake any longer. I teach when I can't do either of those things. There's no ending. It just continues forever, on and on like--"

"--a circle," I finished bitterly.

She nodded dismissively at me. "So you _can_ solve riddles. I am very impressed."

"It's the Ravenclaw in me; no further cleverness of mine."

"Indeed. Only you would have solved it. I set it the day after the funeral, thinking you were coming sooner. I cannot tell you how many nights I hoped you were coming to save me from my peril--"

I frowned at her. "But you hate it when people try and _suffocate_ you in their uncaring words, their concern for you when you know they have far more _important_ things to worry about--"

"Nevertheless," she cut me off, "I waited for you anyway. But it's too late now. My life is… different now. You should hear the students speak of me. It's like I'm not even there. The light has gone out; my fire has abandoned me. I'm a shell of a woman, Gladys, and I can't remember who I used to be."

"I'll show you," I remarked, determination gathering its might in my voice. "I'll show you who you used to be."

She laughed again, the frightening, humorless laugh that was so unlike her. "I've tried. I relived my memories, _his_ memories, Poppy's memories, thinking it would help, but it only made it worse, dwelling on the past when I knew should be fixated on the present."

"Prove it," I replied, tongue in cheek, daring her to reveal her darkest secrets. I was shocked when she complied to my wishes.

We both stood and she beckoned me to follow her. I did so and as we reached the pensieve, I quietly watched Minerva draw her wand to her temple and extract a silvery vein of some memory. We both stepped in at the same moment, and I watched in alarm as the scene unfolded before me.

_She stood on a ledge; her ebony hair whipping around her in the wind. It looked to be the Astronomy tower. I watched her plunge and felt nausea overtake me at once as both myself and the present day Minerva followed her in her descent._

_She seemed to fall forever, and her nightgown was the only indicator of her speed-- she was gaining that speed and quickly._

_We all continued to fall, and just as it looked like Minerva surely was going to die, an apparition of sorts appeared._

"_Minerva," it said gently, pulling her into his embrace as he held her to his chest. "This is not your day." We seemed to fall in reverse as he guided her back to the top of the tower, and both Minerva and I followed him to the bedchamber. There, he laid her before he disappeared. The image suddenly vanished to black before zooming to focus on Minerva in her bed again, breathing heavily and reaching beside her in vain. I watched in abject horror as she sobbed outright when her questing fingers aided her nothing, and all feeling left my body._

We exited the pensieve just as our surroundings faded to black. I looked at her and my eyebrows rose to my hairline as I observed the glistening tears fall down her face.

"Disgusting, isn't it?" She asked weakly with a distinct bitterness to her voice. "Disgusting… I can't even _dream _properly anymore…"

I could bear it no longer. I hugged her and we both sank to the floor as she wept in complete silence.

* * *

**A/N:** _I'm quite fond of the length of these chapters and I find them so easy to write. I'm not quite sure if that is good or bad. :D Anyway, the concept of 'mind floss' is not my own, but before you sue me, please know that it has come from an episode of "Sabrina, the Teenage Witch" that I saw forever ago. :D Also, "__Fàinne", as you have probably guessed by now, means "circle" if I am to trust online language translators, which I don't, but I thought I'd stick this note in there for those who were still confused. Let me know if I should continue. :D_


End file.
